A Muted Silence
by Rad3on
Summary: A girl on the run and in the streets just trying to survive learns a lot of tricks along the way. She gets a chance to prove her worth to the world when she accidentally runs into a crime boss called Roman. With a rise from disgrace and a second chance at life, this candle flame is her last resort for salvation in her future. Romance, betrayal, and action awaits all contenders
1. Chapter 1: Desperation

_**I've really been struggling with motivation lately so that's why I'm making a new story to keep things light and to pursue something I'm more interested in. This story follows canon as closely as possible, taking inspiration and clues from music, theories, and voice lines from the show to create a possibility of how Roman and Neo met. I wanted to put a twist on things and do something semi-unique so here I am. Let me know if there's any mistakes, I am here to learn and improve as well as create a worthwhile story.**_

_**I see this continuing into a possibly novel-length size if I enjoy the concept enough as I continue it. I've never written a villain as a protagonist before but let me tell you I am LOVING it. **_

_**Above all: sit back, relax, and enjoy yourself! **_

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"What are you doing?!" The shopkeeper asked as he stormed over towards the newcomer at his convenience store.

There were racks full of food, snacks, and several other little objects that anyone in a hurry may need. A short-hooded figure had walked in only a few moments ago and had walked over behind a couple of the isles out of sight.

Being intrigued and suspicious, the shopkeeper had followed them and turned the corner in time to see a hand reach out of the dark cloak and grab a nutrition bar and bring it into their cloak.

The shopkeeper stormed over, his feet stamping along the ground in the empty store until he was directly in front of the shocked figure. He shoved the hood back to see the frightened eyes of a woman who looked rather young, in her early twenties at the least. Her hair was matted and sticking to itself with what looked like mud and dirt that she likely didn't have time to wash out. Her face was spotted with dirt and dry, cracked lips.

The burly man felt no remorse as he held out his hand demanding, "you give that back right now and get the hell out of here."

The woman looked down shamefully, her eyes shaking on the brink of tears as her stomach growled. She opened her cloak to reveal tattered and torn clothing that barely covered her skin, showing through in patches over her stomach and hips. She held one arm regretfully across her body as she held the bar out in the other.

The man snatched it out of her hand, causing her to flinch as he slammed it back onto the display. He ignored the scared look in her eyes as he looked down at her.

"Explain yourself or I'll call the police this instant."

The woman looked down in shame. She looked back up slowly to him and pointed at her slightly open mouth while shaking her head.

The man squinted his eyes, "no wonder you're so ragged, you're practically useless. Get the hell out of here and never come back."

He was about to put a hand on her shoulder to start pushing her out of his store but stopped when he saw that her right arm wasn't clutched across her body in fright or self-consciousness; it was holding onto a black umbrella tight enough to turn her bruised knuckles white. He decided that she was potentially dangerous and had nothing to lose and thus kept his distance.

Instead, he pointed to the door and nodded his head to it. With his other hand, he pulled out his scroll with the telephone keypad open. "Leave or you'll finally have a home in prison."

The woman put the hood of her cloak back over her head as she clutched it back together tightly. She hung her head, not wanting to make eye contact with the man as she shuffled her way towards the exit she'd only entered through just seconds ago.

In reality, she was going to purchase the bar. She'd just barely enough money to buy it after saving up for a few days. For once she wouldn't have to steal but she was forced out before she could even bring it to the counter.

She couldn't explain her situation though and his words cut through to her heart, words that she's heard so often before from those closest to her.

She didn't say anything as the bell in the shop dinged as she opened the door. She looked back and only received a reprimanding glare as the man stayed where he was, his thumb hovering above his scroll.

The broken woman turned away not so much to get away but more so to hide the tears that threatened to escape her. She wasn't strong enough to keep her semblance active at all times to hide her clothing; the best she could do was to fully hide her naturally pink iris to match her opposite brown one.

As she thought of this, she walked the streets aimlessly. She's done this again and again before and no matter how long she walked, she knew exactly where in the city she was. She's been on the streets for over a year at the least, assuming her counting has been accurate.

Vale was a hard city to thrive in yet alone even get started. She could defend herself but that didn't help her earn any money or even feed herself. She spent most days scrounging for food or begging for the mercy of others where she only received disgust. She lived in fear of infections from the dumpsters she had to dig through which quickly ruined any clothing she found. What she currently wore barely even fit her as it was all one size too big.

Luckily, she had found some twine and strung it at the sleeves and around her waist to keep it clung to her body, but it became painful after walking for a while. She was grateful for the cloak, her only saving grace as it helped hide at least a portion of her pain as she wandered the streets, her hands cupped out in front of her in hopes of a stray coin. Her eyes scanned the ground for any dropped scraps or anything of use. One time she had found a nearly empty lighter and managed to create a fire from newspapers and bark she peeled off a tree within a nearby park.

Her stomach tore her from her thoughts as it growled again. She could almost feel it screaming at her, begging for a mote of sustenance. Her mouth was dry and lacked saliva as she looked around for anywhere she might be able to go into.

Across the street, she spotted a restaurant. It was classy, but it also wasn't too classy where she would be likely to be denied entry at the door. She licked her lips, which felt particularly uncomfortable with how dry her tongue was, as she made her way towards her salvation. Maybe she'd be able to strengthen her semblance just for a few minutes, enough to eat part of a meal at the least.

The wooden sign creaked in the breeze as she stood in the door, looking around warily. She looked around for anyone that might be alone or maybe someone going to a secluded area. She'd done this tactic several times to the point of near perfection as she strode inside warily. She knew this was a place where you would seat yourself and wait for a server so she took her time 'looking' for a seat.

As she scanned the people, she noticed one man at the far end of the restaurant stand up politely. He looked over the two men who accompanied him and excused himself from the table, walking over to where the bathrooms were clearly marked. Even from this distance, the cloaked figure could see that the man's plate was only half-eaten with plenty of food just left lying there.

The restaurant was fairly crowded and the close-knit tables let the woman slip into the crowd and pass through relatively unnoticed. She kept the man in her sights as she followed him, memorizing where he'd come from and his original table.

She took a moment to study him. She memorized his gait and the way he took his strides with confidence and purpose. He stood with his back tall and his chin high as he ignored those closest to him. He walked with a cane but he didn't rely on it for movement so it must be some kind of weapon covered up as a medical device.

That's as much as she had gotten to see before he disappeared into the men's washroom. Thankfully she noticed that the urinals were all empty and she doubted the stalls would be in use. She strode up to the door with a glance back to see if anyone was watching her. She waited before entering, pulling one hand out of her cloak to check an imaginary watch on her left wrist to make the intentional pause look more natural.

Then she pushed open the door lightly and slipped in. As the door swiftly fell back into its resting spot, the noise of the busy crowd all faded away. She watched as the white-coated man strode towards the furthest urinal, not fully arrived at it yet. She froze as he paused for a moment, turning to the right to check his hair. She studied his face for a split second, noticing the addition of eyeliner on his eyes. She memorized his jawline and cheekbones as well as the shape of his jowl within the split second she saw him.

Luckily he didn't turn enough to see her as he began walking away again. He turned to the right and placed his cane against the wall and was about to unzip his pants as he suddenly heard a quickened pace beside him. He looked over in surprise as a small cloaked figure grabbed his cane and began looking it over.

He stood there dumbstruck at the bluntness of the man beside him. He cleared his throat, "you'll put that back if you know what's good for you."

He looked down further as he scanned who this figure was. He was about to look back up when his eyes centered on the hooded figure's shoes. His eyes squinted as he realized they were boots with heels that were partially broken. He suddenly realized it was a woman in front of him as he turned to her, his hand outstretched to grab his cane forcibly as his suspicion grew.

The woman's head snapped up to him fast enough that her hood fell off her face, revealing her scared yet intent eyes. Her curious expression changed to determination as she glared at the bright-haired man. He was still coming to terms of why a woman had followed him in here let alone the expression of the ill-intent set on him.

His hand flinched in surprise as he saw her eyes and battered face. He noted the minute bruises and specks of dirt and grease as he was close enough to smell how much she reeked. Before he could even realize what was happening, the woman moved closer to him.

She grabbed his outstretched right hand and pulled it downwards and forwards, pushing it in a circle until it was behind him. She raised it, pressuring his shoulder as he bent over slightly instinctively. She slammed her right foot on his own, digging her heel in as much as possible as he bent forward further in pain. As he curled, she shoved her body into his own and towards the urinal. As he took a step, still realizing who this was attacking him, she let go and placed both her hands on the back of his head.

She pushed as hard as possible, using her body weight to weigh in him as she shoved his head into the hard porcelain of the urinal. She heard a crack as he collided with it and let out a sound of pain mixed with shock. She flinched as she saw a ripple of energy along his body. _He has an aura?_ She shook the thought out of her head as he fell backward and onto the floor, holding his head in pain.

The man couldn't hear anything as his ears rung from his possible concussion. Thankfully his aura had protected him from any serious damage, but he was disoriented and his senses assaulted. He opened his eyes just long enough to see the woman holding his cane and scanning him from top to bottom before closing her eyes for a second.

Within only a heartbeat, her appearance began to change. It looked like ripples of glass moving from her boots and up along her body. He recognized his own shoes, then pants and jacket. He groaned as his head pulsated in pain as he struggled to see her through tears. Nonetheless, he could see what she's done; the woman had some kind of semblance that allowed her to replicate his appearance. He blinked his eyes, recognizing his bright hair and eyes looking back down at him with a scared but desperate expression. He opened his mouth, "lady you don't-"

He didn't get any further as the woman raised one foot and slammed it down onto his chest, her heel pinpointing the force as she shoved the air out of his lungs. His eyes closed in pain as his body flinched upwards. He opened his mouth, gasping for air as he watched his attacker turn and quickly run to the door. She stopped for a moment to calm herself and, without looking back, exited the bathroom leaving her target helpless on the floor.

The woman moved quickly, she knew she didn't have much time before he would regain his breath. There are so many elements to take into account-maybe someone had heard his sounds of pain or they'd enter the bathroom and help him. There was also the fact that he was much taller than she'd expected, being at least six feet tall. She was only able to change her height to a max of five foot five with a bit of luck. So she did manage to look like him accurately despite her height not being exactly the same as she strode towards the table she'd seen him rise from.

The disguised figure remembered how he'd walked, assuming a confident pose as she held her chin high. She'd never even pretended to have confidence before and it felt so fake and unknown to her as she made her way to his dinner.

She tread lightly as to mask the sound of her heels, although the crowd did that enough for her anyway. As she got close to the table, she studied the two men sitting there opposite of where her victim had sat. They were both wearing black suit and jackets. Their shoulders were broad and they spoke carelessly without any regard for those around them. They seemed like regular street thugs to her but just dressed fancier.

She strode as fast as possible, not just to hide her height but more so due to hunger, sliding into his seat in the booth before anyone said anything. One of the men turned to her in surprise, "that was quick, didn't take a few minutes to check your eyeliner this time?"

He chuckled and the other man laughed jokingly. The woman didn't say anything, just rolling her eyes as she picked up his glass of water, downing the entirety within seconds.

The man to her side looked at her questioningly, "that was qui-"

The disguised figure simply held up a flat palmed hand vertically to the man, ordering him into silence as she used her other to scoop a spoonful of mashed potatoes into her mouth. Her eyes widened in joy as she dug in, cutting into the juicy medium-rare steak. She was shoveling as much food into her mouth as possible, barely remembering to chew as both men looked at her in surprise.

"And I thought you would be on a diet, Roman."

She simply ignored the man as she forced herself to chew. It took a couple of seconds, but she swallowed the mouthful and put both her hands around the bowl of wonton soup of the man in front of her, ignoring his cry of rejection. He watched in confusion as she held it up to her lips and began gulping down intently, "what the hell, Roman?! Get your own!"

The woman froze and lowered the bowl slightly as she heard a door slam open further down the restaurant. She saw a flash of orange hair and a mass of shouting from nearby guests. She blinked her eyes in surprise at how fast he'd recovered. She handed the bowl back to the annoyed henchman as she stood up from the wooden table, holding up a finger to signal them both to wait. They looked over at what she'd seen in confusion, expecting trouble. However, all they saw was their real boss Roman push through a couple of people and into plain sight. He stumbled slightly as he pointed at the slightly shorter version of himself across the restaurant, "get her!"

The two black-clad henchmen looked to the Roman beside them in confusion. They studied her and suddenly realized the height difference. They'd never heard her talk so far but an imposter would explain the suddenly ravenous attitude he displayed. The closest one, acting quickly, reached forward and grabbed the cane she was holding. The woman panicked, letting go of her stolen merchandise as she pushed through the crowds to get away.

Unfortunately, they parted for her as she ran towards the entrance, denying her the chance to drop her disguise whilst breaking the line of sight from her pursuers.

She ran to the door as patrons pushed to get out of her way in case she was dangerous. These people weren't used to violence in such a high end of town and their noses wrinkled as her scent passed them.

The woman shoved the door open desperately as she looked around in fear. She'd never been caught so quickly like this, never had her victims take such initiative. To be honest, she never attempted this often, only when she needed food to keep herself from starving.

She turned left, running down the sidewalk scanning around frantically. She heard a crash behind her as the two henchmen broke out of the door at a sprint followed by the man she assumed to be Roman.

The street was almost deserted and she needed to get out of sight. She saw an alleyway on her left and quickly turned into it, tears welling into her eyes as she imagined going to jail simply because she needed a way to eat. She couldn't imagine going through all her troubles and tribulations just to wind up in prison-only make her suffering worse.

Desperation turned into horror as she realized the alleyway was a dead end with tall stone walls on three sides. There were bags of trash at the end and a couple of metal bins as she tried to slow down. Her feet skid against the ground, her broken and fractured heels on her boots catching on the pavement and tripping her before she could stop. Her hands hit the ground as she slid forward, her body slamming into the piles of bags that compressed and crinkled underneath her.

The shattering of glass was heard as her disguise broke from the contact with the ground. The pavement scraped and cut her hands as her aura could barely repel the simple fall. She groaned in pain and terror as the sound of running footsteps came closer. She groggily pushed herself up, her hands sinking into the ripped bags which had grease seeping out onto her. She stood up in disgust, shaking her head to clear her vision as she looked up.

_No, not again, please!_ She looked up to see the two burly henchmen slow calmly to a walk as they turned the corner, seeing her trapped. Roman followed after them, his cane clicking on the ground within his stride. She pulled her cloak closed and held it shut as tight as possible as her eyes shook.

Roman spoke as they approached slowly, only about forty meters away by this point, "so, this is what you look like? Can't help but say I was expecting more."

He came to a stop within twenty meters and tapped his cane to the ground in front of him. He stood with a wide stance and both hands on his cane as he peered at her curiously. He saw her shaking eyes and the deep-rooted fear which only increased his intrigue. A shockwave from his headache hit him and he threw out all remorse as he glanced at his henchman.

Roman nodded towards his attacker, "I've hired you two for a reason haven't I? Don't disappoint."

The two men smiled and began stalking towards the scared woman as she took a step back. Her shining pink eye and mundane brown shifted between them quickly as she backpedaled. They cracked their knuckles, wanting to enjoy the beating they would gift to her.

_Not again, I've prepared. I'm ready, I'll show them! _The woman suddenly stopped holding her ground as her right hand shifted over, gripping the handle of an umbrella she'd stolen weeks ago.

Suddenly, the beggar jumped back, opening her cloak and pulling out a tattered and stained black umbrella. One of the wires was bent and it didn't fully close on one side as she held it out threateningly to the two men. She didn't know who to point it towards as she switched targets, her grip loosening and tightening nervously.

The two men both stopped and looked at each other with raised eyebrows; then they couldn't do anything other than laugh. After a couple of seconds of what they saw only as a joke, they silenced themselves and looked back to her.

They watched the woman's eyes dim a little more as they both pulled out pocket knives and opened them towards her. Roman stood behind, not approaching, as he assessed the situation and studied both parties in play.

Both men took a step forward, one of them extending his knife hand towards her threateningly.

The woman moved first out of desperation; however, no one had expected her to move so swiftly nor with such fluidity.

She held out the umbrella to the man on her right, swinging the tip in a light circle around his hand and tracing his wrist. As soon as her umbrella touched his knife, she pointed it upwards and his hand jerked suddenly in the same direction. The man yelped in pain, falling to his knees in an attempt to save his wrist, grabbing what was most likely a sprain.

The other man took advantage of her attacking his friend as he lunged forward, aiming to plunge his knife into her throat. He didn't expect her to lean backwards onto her hands, her back arching further than he thought was even possible as his knife passed into blank air above her stomach. He looked to the right as her rising leg collided with his temple as she continued to lean backward. Her motion resembled a back handspring but she was fluid enough and light enough to execute the same motions without any spring onto nor off the ground. Her right foot landed on the first henchman's neck whose wrist she had almost broken whilst her left landed atop his already injured wrist.

Her heel dug into the back of his neck as he let out a cry of pain from his wrist again.

The woman wasted barely a second as she propelled herself with her right foot, shoving the downed man's neck to the ground with more force than he'd expected. His head cracked against the ground as she stepped forward. The woman shoved the umbrella forward and jabbed it painfully twice into the standing henchman's ribs before his vision had even cleared from her previous strike.

He swung blindly through the pain, hoping to stop the assault but felt his strike swing through the air yet again. He didn't even hear the woman jump until she had landed with her feet solidly on his shoulders, her sharp broken heels making it even more painful as she teetered.

She hopped for a second, only gaining an inch of air as the man winced painfully. She clapped her feet onto the sides of his head over his ears, sending them ringing again as she tucked her arms in and her torso forward.

The man leaned forward in confusion and his feet left the ground with the force she pulled him down at. The small woman turned quickly, letting go of the man mid twirl. She somersaulted neatly directly downwards the ground as the man tumbled over her without touching her as his head followed her feet. He landed on his back on top of his injured friend before he could have risen.

The woman landed cleanly with her right knee touching the ground and her left foot planted with her torso curled towards the ground. She stood up slowly, assessing the two henchmen. She let out a sigh as she realized they wouldn't be getting up for a minute or two.

_Wait!_ She turned to her left instinctively as she heard a shuffling. Roman had raised his cane towards her. She saw a cap on the end of it flick upwards with a small reticle. He closed one eye and she suddenly realized it must fire some type of projectile.

She knew there was no hope of finding cover in this small alleyway and her fear only invigorated her panic. She raised her umbrella and opened it towards him with her eyes shut as tight as possible.

She heard what sounded like a flare followed by an impact on her umbrella. Her hands jerked upwards and it flew out of her grip as the explosion lifted her off her feet. The terror-filled woman was flung back several feet, landing only inches away from the trash she'd initially fell into. She skidded along the ground which only served to wind her. She opened her eyes and sat up painfully holding her side. She watched as her flaming umbrella fell to the ground in front of her, the wires charred and fabric incinerated rendering it completely useless.

Tears grew in the corners of her eyes as she heard the confident stride of Roman as he casually walked towards her. He stopped as he stepped on her umbrella, the metal snapping underneath his foot as he rubbed it into the ground. She tore her eyes away from it and up to his one visible eye.

"Although that was entertaining, you'd better surrender before you lose the next round," Roman spoke confidently as he pointed his closed cane towards her.

The woman looked down shamefully and let her hands fall to her lap disgracefully.

"Good. Now tell me who you are."

The woman's head only shrunk further down as she could barely see through tears.

Roman crouched down and put his cane under her chin. He lifted her head and saw the destroyed expression of her face. He asked a different question, "who paid you to do this? Was it Clancy? He's always had it out for me." Roman saw no reaction from her so continued, "was it the police? Maybe we've got a huntress in training with that little semblance of yours; I've always found those rather annoying."

He tilted his head as she shook hers, the tears sprinkling from her differently colored eyes. Roman sighed as he let his cane fall to the ground. He looked over at his henchman who both rose up to their feet in pain. He looked back to her asking, "then what's in this for you?"

The woman shrugged her shoulders and waved her hands in front of her helplessly. She waved a hand over her mouth and then pointed at it, her hands shaking wildly from terror as she did so.

Roman stood up, "interesting. You just wanted the food I assume? Or are you telling me that you can't speak?"

The huddled crying figure held her hands in front of her helplessly, not knowing how to communicate with the man who had her life in his hands. All she could think of was her instincts as she signed the word 'both' in front of her.

She was surprised to see Roman nod curiously before crouching back down, "so you're a mute then? That explains a lot but that doesn't explain why you went for me. Did I just happen to be at the wrong place at the wrong time?"

His captive shrunk downwards with a nod of her head.

To her surprise, Roman smiled.

He waved a hand at her saying, "come on kid, get up."

She looked at him, expecting a trap but having no choice in the matter, slowly pushed herself upwards. She rose slowly to her feet as he studied her tattered and torn clothing. He forced himself from gagging at her scent as she stood shamefully in front of him.

One of the henchmen who was holding his wrist spoke angrily, "I say we break her legs and leave her to walk home."

Roman turned to him with a swift backhand. His hand connected and the man's head snapped to the side in surprise. The woman flinched, her irises turning white as she blinked. Her hands pressed into her chest as she looked fearfully at the man. She forced herself to breathe and blinked again, her eyes returning to their regular color.

The injured man rubbed his cheek as he looked back with a shocked expression to his boss.

Roman turned to the other man and pointed his finger at him, "you're fired," he turned to the man he'd just struck, "and you're _definitely_ fired."

All three people looked at Roman in surprise and shocked expressions. Even the wind seemed to die down as it listened in on the sudden development. Roman pointed to the end of the alley commanding, "now leave and be lucky I'm letting you keep your lives after such incompetence."

The men muttered under their breathes but both acquiesced and limped to the end of the alleyway. Roman watched them until they'd turned the corner and disappeared before he turned back.

He looked down upon the scared yet curious girl as her eyes scanned him despite her shaking. Her shoulders visibly shook as she fought back tears, terrified of any harm that may befall her from this fate. Her hands clasped in front of her chest, too scared to reach out to grab her cloak.

Roman sighed saying, "look, kid-"

He stopped as the woman grew angry for a second, a scowl appearing as she signed the numbers two and then one sequentially after another.

Roman's eyebrows raised in surprise, she definitely didn't look twenty-one but at the same time, he wasn't surprised. He looked to her as she quickly relapsed and drew her hands back to her.

He took a deep breath and took a step back. He stood casually with his cane to his side and his other hand on his hip. He purposely showed her that he was leaving his defenses open to show the lack of threat. He knew she would be able to read body language well as that's the only thing she could communicate with. He was right as she scanned him up and down, her breathing slowing ever so slightly.

He rubbed his eyes saying, "I can't say that I've… enjoyed… our meeting like this." He squinted at her, "catching me in the bathroom like that… I like your style."

She looked up in surprise as he smiled. She watched as he took out a cigar, lighting it and then placing it onto his lips. He took a long drag and blew the smoke directly upwards and nowhere near her face. He held it as he leaned forward slightly, "I'm going to give you a job offer since a new position has recently opened."

She flinched from surprise. _Why would he want to help me after what I've done to him?_ She let her eyes meet his own as he said, "I'm not going to hurt you."

He saw the question in her eyes and continued, "I've seen your resume and let me say," he rubbed his temple painfully, "it's impressed me."

He cleared his throat and took another drag of his cigar. He spoke clearly and purposefully to her. "Here's the deal: I want you to work beside me and help me with any operations I may have a part in. My line of work is less than legal but I doubt you have a problem with that. You'll stick with me by my side at all times unless otherwise told. You'll keep me safe and in turn, I'll keep you safe."

He studied the woman as she rubbed her hands nervously, not knowing what she was getting into. He rubbed his shoulder, "if you say no, I'll turn my back right now and we'll never see each other again. You'll get back to whatever life it is you have and I'll go back to my abode with a half-full stomach. Thank you for that dine and dash, by the way, you have no idea how much that bill would have been."

The woman giggled for a second but silenced herself, looking up fearfully to him. Roman didn't move as she relaxed slightly. He motioned to her asking, "before you choose, what's your name?"

The cloaked figure's hand shook but she promptly signed the name Iris letter by letter.

Roman nodded along, "Iris, huh? I like it-matches your eye."

Iris flinched and quickly used her semblance to change her pink eye back to brown to match her other and her dirt-encrusted hair.

Roman raised an eyebrow saying, "too bad, I liked the pink."

Iris looked at him curiously as she slowly dispelled her semblance, letting the pink slowly return with a cautionary glance to Roman. He nodded his agreement as he stared at her.

"So, what's the verdict? You'll have a nice paycheck to go along with it; crime tends to have large price tags. All I ask if that you stay a week to try it out and after that you can leave at any time, no strings attached. I may be a criminal but I'm no wild animal."

Iris looked up and tapped her right fingers against her lips in thought.

Roman slipped in, "also did I mention that you'll get three meals a day with a warm single bedroom to sleep in?"

As soon as he said that, Iris had made up her mind. She smirked for one of the first times in a long time as she decided that this would be the best for her. She'd have a place to stay with warm food and an actual source of income rather than a couple of coins a day if even that. She'd fought for so long to survive on scraps and she knew she wouldn't get much further on fumes. Even though she was terrified of what she might be getting into, she simply couldn't throw away this opportunity.

Iris' smirk grew as she held out her right hand for him to shake and she set her eyes on his ow unwavering.

Roman looked surprised at the sudden resolve and determination in her eyes as she settled on his deal. He grinned similar to her as he stepped to clasp her hand.

He hesitated and drew his hand away from hers after seeing how greasy and grime-covered her hand was. He spoke awkwardly, "we can shake on it another time."

Iris looked down embarrassed but glanced at him as he took a step away.

She bounded after him curiously, not wanting to lose the opportunity she had as he spoke, "although I _love_ the _I live in the sewers_ aesthetic, you really need to get cleaned up before we go out anywhere."


	2. Chapter 2: Cynicism

_**Although I would love to answer any and all questions, when you are logged in as a guest I am unable to pm you to answer anything. Also, there are many things I won't say, akin to the reason for her name being Iris, as they point to spoilers in the near-future. Don't worry, there is a method to this madness. **_

_**I'm glad you're all enjoying the story thus far and I wanted to thank you for coming to read it and for your generous support :)**_

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Roman had a rather plain-looking black car. Iris had expected some sort of extravagance from him or maybe even a dull orange. However, as he unlocked it and stepped into the driver's seat, she felt like it fit his line of work.

He opened the door from the inside and she stepped in nervously. It's been a long time since she's ever been inside a car and she was surprised at how fresh it smelled. She looked around excitedly, remembering how to put on a seatbelt. She felt the fabric of the seat but flinched when the engine roared to life. She looked with a second of fright to Roman as he glanced at her curiously.

"You get used to these things quickly I imagine."

Iris put one flat hand into the air with her palm pointing downwards. She teetered it side to side saying _so-so_ as she continued looking around nervously.

She looked back to Roman as he placed his hands on the wheel while speaking, "well your first day on the job starts now and I'll let you settle in a bit. You've got a lot of skill and I'm interested how you'll perform once you've got the right tools under your belt."

He was about to pull out of his parking space but turned back to Iris before doing so, "and uh… sorry about the umbrella."

Iris sat back, pretending to pout with her lips pursed and arms crossed while glaring at him. He turned away without a word as he shifted gear and began their short drive.

As he moved and began flowing into traffic, the radio came to life. The music it was playing was a form of rock music that Roman's head gently nodded to; he probably didn't realize it but Iris did. She also had different tastes as she reached forward and grabbed the knob that she assumed would change the station. She was correct, with the volume knob being on the driver side, as she turned it and began searching station to station.

Torchwick glanced at the flickering sounds and raised an eyebrow. His surprise increased when she settled on a station playing classical orchestra music.

"Huh, classy."

He smirked as he caught a glimpse of Iris smiling proudly at his observation, her chin held high for a couple of seconds with her eyes closed.

As they began slowing for a red light, Roman asked without turning, "so how did you learn to fight like that? I may not have much of an aura but you still shattered it in seconds."

The car rolled to a stop, giving Roman the chance to look at Iris for a response. He was surprised to see her shrug her shoulders as she pressed her lips together slightly. She just pointed at herself with one hand and signing the word '**taught**' with her other hand.

He tilted his head curiously, "you taught yourself? Interesting."

Iris saw Roman's eyes scrunch in thought as his mind raced. She quickly moved her hands before they began to start moving as she asked him her own question. She quickly asked with her hands, **where did you learn sign language?**

Her eyebrows raised as she finished the sentence to indicate the question. They both saw the streetlights turn green and Roman turned to the street and began rolling the car forward yet again.

He spoke with only the occasional glance to his partner, "in reality, I got bored one day when I was younger and decided to learn some of it. I won't say I'm fluent but I know a good enough amount. It's come in handy once or twice when I've been sneaking around not able to talk to my accomplices since even a whisper would be too loud," Roman let out a light laugh, "although I imagine you've had this problem several times where not many people actually know anything about the language."

Iris nodded to the last part, most of her life she had struggled with that exact problem. She listened to him talk curiously, not expecting him to have learned much of it at all. She understood him not being completely fluent, she would have been much more surprised if he was.

The rest of the drive went smoothly, only taking a bit less than ten minutes. Iris noticed the town become darker and sketchier the further they drove. Unfortunately, other than that one red light, they didn't communicate much in the vehicle due to Roman having to focus on the road; although he barely seemed to do so, cutting several people off and blaring the horn at seemingly random.

The car came to a rest outside of an antique store. The building was a couple of stories tall and had a swaying wooden sign above the doorway. The building looked decrepit as the bottom floor windows had boards nailed over them and vines crawling upwards; in fact, most of the neighboring buildings bore degraded foundations and cracked windows all along the street. There were graffiti signs occasionally spread out with garbage littered across the sidewalk. The metals railings around the dead garden and eroded stone stairs were rusted, barely even standing by themselves as Roman exited the vehicle.

Iris quickly hopped out and shuffled around the car until she was beside him. She kept her hands clutched in front of her chest inside her cloak with her hood up. She glanced around nervously, not feeling too comfortable in this part of town.

Thankfully there wasn't anyone in the streets to notice her as they both ascended the stairs towards the door.

The bell rang as Roman entered first, holding the door open for Iris afterward to show her it was safe. The air was dank and humid inside as dust gathered upon the shelves lined with antiques.

Oddly, Iris felt at home. She liked the off-putting smell because she knew how many people would turn their nose and walk away. She always liked the privacy and she'd always come to places similar to this. The people were always friendlier to her and never once tried to hurt her.

However, this store felt different. There was a reason they were here but she wasn't fully sure why. Before she could ask Roman, he motioned for her to follow as he strode towards the clerk.

He simply spoke, "good to see you, Jacque. Anyone been here today?"

The clerk, who Iris assumed to be Jacque, was a young spry man who couldn't be older than 25. He had a short clean beard with sleeked back black hair. He wore a short-sleeve green shirt that revealed muscular arms and his pectorals pressed up against the fabric underneath. He had a tall and intimidating stature despite his friendly countenance.

Jacque shook his head, "nothing more than an old lady who needed directions." He leaned and peered behind Roman. His eyes met Iris' curiously as he glanced back to Roman, "may I ask who your new friend is?"

Roman turned to say, "this would be a new associate, her name is Iris. She's not much on the talkative side."

Iris didn't know how to respond so she just tapped her hand to the side of her head and waved in a sign of hello.

The man waved back with a confused expression, "_she's_ your new associate? What happened to the last two?"

Roman's eyes darkened and his head tilted down menacingly as he glared at Jacque.

"_She_ happened. Those two buffoons were floored by her within seconds and all she had was a broken umbrella."

Jacque nodded slowly, scanning Iris now with even more intent. "I see." He blinked a couple of times, deciding to trust his boss and not disagree. "Well your quarters are just as you left them. I haven't seen Quincy leave so she should be up there already."

Roman nodded, his threatening glare disappearing without a trace as he looked to the side at a set of stairs behind Jacque. He looked back to Iris saying, "this way."

Roman led the way up the stairs, each step he made sending creaking sounds cascading through the corridor. Iris glanced back nervously, seeing Jacque staring at her and scanning her for any kind of threat. She could imagine the paranoia of people when it comes to trust around here. She was reminded of this as she saw a large shotgun lying on two brackets just behind the desk with Jacque's hand resting on its handle. She gulped, realizing how protected this area must be and what she might be getting into.

She followed Roman timidly but swiftly as he strode up the steps. The wooden boards groaned under their steps as he pulled out a keychain. He scanned the keys before grabbing a small silver one and placing it into the lock of the door at the top of the stairs. He turned the key and the lock clicked. As he opened the door, with the rusted hinges screeching, he stepped in first as he had earlier, holding it wide for Iris.

She stepped into the large open room and looked around, expecting something to be wrong or some kind of immediate danger. She let out a deep breath as she realized it was just a common room with no one in sight.

Surprisingly, the room looked rather plain. There were a couple of generic couches with a TV separated by a coffee table. The walls were a basic beige with only one window in front of her. The window itself only looked at another building, showing no sightlines in nor out. She turned around, scanning the surroundings.

To the left behind her, the room looped around the stairs and the main of the building was directly above the shop they'd walked up from. All the windows had curtains drawn as she saw a dining table with a kitchen behind it at the end of the room. The table had a few chairs around it with cushioned seats but nothing too elegant.

Iris was rather surprised, she expected Roman to live in complete luxury but his living space seemed plain and ordinary. She took off her boots, not wanting to track prints around the area, and her height sunk another couple inches.

He must have noticed her expression as he looked around to follow her gaze. "It's nothing special, which is exactly what I want someone to think if there is ever a break-in. Trust me, I'd liven this place up with candles and paintings if I had the chance."

He continued looking around, spying for something specifically. Roman uttered under his breath, "where is that girl? She's supposed to be here."

Iris looked up to him as he strode past her, looking around. He called out loudly, "Quincy?! You here?!"

There was no response.

Roman mumbled under his breath with annoyance. He looked back to Iris as he gestured towards a couch. "You can take a seat and make yourself at home. I'll go find the brat. She's lucky that her food is to die for."

Torchwick turned away and disappeared around a corner to the left of the kitchen. Iris assumed there was another set of stairs up to the third floor as she heard his footsteps stomping upwards, dissipating into the air as a silence brewed.

The room felt suddenly cold yet comfortable to her as she looked around. Iris glanced around awkwardly, rescanning her surroundings. She noticed the musky smell diminished a bit up here as a fresh homely smell made itself known.

Being alone was oddly satisfying for Iris as she took in a deep breath and turned in a couple of neat circles looking around. She couldn't stop the excitement from pouring through her expression as she debated what to do first.

However, before getting to decide anything, she heard a door creaking open from behind her. She turned back towards the kitchen and saw a small door open into it. She assumed that must be a walk-in pantry of some kind as a woman dressed conservatively as a maid walked out. She wore a long black skirt that flowed down near her ankles, almost swishing against the floor as she walked. She had white fabric tied around her waist in a neat bow with the rest of her torso being covered in a similar black material to her skirt. White buttons ran along her sternum with extra white floral patterns running along her shoulders. She had tight black sleeves with thin white gloves on her hands.

The woman, who Iris assumed to be Quincy, looked to be in her mid-twenties as she strode out into clearer view, her short black hair following her head. She closed the door behind her with a swing of her foot and strode out of the kitchen. She heard the footsteps upstairs and was about to call out to Roman before her eyes met Iris'.

The maid simply froze, her hands twitching slightly in alarm. She relaxed when she realized that Iris must be with Roman with him having arrived with her. To Iris' dismay, Quincy squinted at her with a look of disgust. The maid scanned Iris up and down with one side of her mouth raising in a putrid glare.

"Gross," Quincy grumbled. She strode towards Iris as the woman looked down shamefully at her appearance. The maid stalked towards her prey asking, "so who has the candle dragged in today?"

She stopped only a foot from Iris. "I was hoping for someone who's… well..." Quincy drifted off in thought as she scanned Iris again, "not you."

Iris looked up at the insult but couldn't respond as Quincy stepped closer. The maid loomed over her, forcing her to shuffle back slightly in shock. Quincy reeled back within seconds, one of her hands holding her nose as she over-exaggerated her gagging from the scent.

When she recovered she glared at Iris as if she'd attacked her. "I don't know what he sees in you but I see none of it."

Quincy stalked forward until she was standing above Iris threateningly again. Iris leaned back slightly, her eyes scanning the floor as she prepared to be berated as she had been so many times before. She was used to this-she knew how to take the punishment.

"I want you to know that before I have to live with you: you are nothing," Quincy spoke with a hiss behind her words, "you are worthless, not just to me, but to every single person who sees you. Those two men you're undoubtedly here to replace lasted just two days. You won't even last one."

They both heard the footsteps above them move towards the stairs, about to start descending. Quincy spoke quickly whilst jabbing Iris' sternum with an index finger, "and before you get any ideas, he's mine."

Iris looked up out of fear to her aggressor. Despite her deep-rooted terror in being assaulted and the constant new additional information being thrown at her, she still retained her curious nature. Her head tilted questioningly when Quincy finished her sentence, that's not the reason she was here in the slightest. Romance was an ideal that Iris had given up long ago, never being able to see herself with someone who would ever accept who she really was. Quincy didn't notice the tilt of Iris' head, only the shakiness and fear within the short woman's eyes.

Quincy smiled and took a couple of steps away. Her countenance shifted effortlessly from threatening to comforting as her head pointed towards the stairs. Footsteps reached a crescendo as Roman turned the corner, setting his eyes on the two figures. He'd expected to see Quincy with her usual amount of friendliness, but what he didn't expect is how Iris looked.

She looked like she had back when he'd destroyed her weapon in the alleyway-she looked defeated. He was sure if he were to lift Iris' head she'd have tears forming in her eyes that she'd be so desperately trying to fight. His smile dropped as he saw her submissive body language with her knees pointed inwards and her arms wrapped around her waist. He could almost feel how miserable she was as every ounce of confidence he'd seen in her just minutes ago was suddenly shattered into pieces.

Roman simply frowned, imagining what kind of conversation had happened while he was away. He knew how integral Iris' first days here would be. Roman knew that although some conflict is developmental, too much will simply destroy her will to continue working with him and destroy her potential. No one else saw what she could become other than him, everyone else just saw her clothes and assumed she was worthless.

Quincy placed her hands behind her back and pushed her chest out provocatively, "welcome back, Roman! I was just chatting with this wonderful young girl you've brought to our home."

Roman squinted at her as he leaned on his cane, "oh? And what were you two talking about?" He took a mental note that Iris took a sidestep away from Quincy as she spoke.

"Oh you know, the usual. She's excited to be here and is exceptionally grateful for your hospitality," Quincy spoke with a smile as she rocked back and forth on her heels.

Roman rolled his eyes, "I find that hard to believe."

Quincy blinked a couple of times in confusion as Roman took confident strides towards Iris. "What?" Quincy asked as he walked past her without a glance. He placed a hand on Iris' shoulder and gently squeezed it to remind her of his presence. He wanted to build her confidence as much as possible, knowing it would be her main weapon and defense in the future.

Roman's eyes darkened as he glared at Quincy, "our guest of honor here is mute. So I'm not sure how this _conversation_ of yours would have worked."

Quincy took a step back looking hurt, "are you implying that I-"

Roman sighed and rubbed his eyes as his tone darkened, "Quincy."

The maid stopped moving and looked down at the ground. She rubbed her hands in front of her shamefully. Iris looked up, taking a deep breath and forcing away her fear. She hated being so scared of people but it's been so long since she's interacted with anyone to this level. She didn't expect to be attacked so suddenly and didn't know what to do so she simply did nothing. However, she did quickly realize the dynamic of the situation. Quincy couldn't berate her while Roman was around or she'd be digging herself a grave.

Iris took another deep breath as Roman's fingers flexed slightly on her shoulder to calm her. She focused on the touch and knew she was safe, he wouldn't let her get hurt. Like he said, if she protected him he'd protect her. Iris jumped out of her thoughts as Roman spoke.

"I do not pay you to run your mouth. I pay you to clean. I pay you to cook. I pay you to do laundry and to deny intruders' entry. I will not allow any form of violence in this house, including verbal." Roman glared at Quincy as she refused to meet his eyes. He continued, "Iris here is a guest and she will be working alongside me as a partner. This means you treat her the way you'd treat me. I imagine she's been through more than you could even think of and she deserves your respect."

Iris looked up in surprise to Roman. She'd never been complimented like this before. In fact, she hasn't had anyone speak positively about her in years yet alone try to earn her respect from her peers. She'd given up dreams of ever being treated equally long ago and it felt like a dream come true to be defended. She felt a minuscule smirk on her face as she looked back down, her pride beginning to re-inflate to its previous height.

Quincy bowed slightly, "yes, of course, I'm sorry, sir."

Roman took his hand off of Iris and waved the subject away. "Whatever. Now for what I'd wanted you for: I need you to prep the shower and get a set of your clothes to give to Iris here to change into after she cleans up for dinner."

Quincy stepped forward in shock, "a pair of _my_ clothes?!"

Roman scowled, "no a pair of my clothes-of course your clothes mine wouldn't fit her!"

Quincy frowned but acquiesced and turned away while grumbling under her breath. Her hands were balled into fists and she held her shoulders high in frustration. She turned the far corner and stomped up the stairs towards the bath and her bedroom.

Roman shook his head disappointedly, "I'd like to say that you get used to her, but you really don't."

He looked down at Iris as her eyes looked up slowly to his. Roman could see how she was forcing away tears and trying to keep a straight face.

He sighed, knowing this must be very new and different for her. He couldn't imagine what she felt but he needed her in a good frame of mind if she were to work properly with him. He looked down with soft eyes, easily making contact with Iris'.

"I don't know what she told you, but she's on the bottom of the food chain." Roman smiled as Iris looked confused. He continued, "all she ever does is try to please me—she's got no other purpose. You," Roman placed a finger ever-so-lightly under her chin to lift her head to him, "have a purpose. You've got more potential than anyone I've seen before and I'm willing to put in the work for you if you'll put in the same for me in the future."

They both looked up as the sound of water was heard. Roman pointed his open hand to the stairs saying, "you'll feel better after a shower and a hot meal."

Iris nodded and slowly took a step forward. To be honest, she didn't fully know what to do. Everything suddenly felt so foreign as she nervously shuffled towards the stairs. She swallowed her fear as she looked back up to Roman. She saw his open stance with a straight back and raised chin.

She didn't realize it at first, but she moved to copy his movement. Her back straightened slightly as she drew her head higher to bolster any dignity she had left. Her hands fell to her side instead of clutching themselves or held around her waist.

Roman watched the motion curiously as she turned to the stairs, slowly but surely climbing the steps.

As he heard her footsteps fade away, a new idea trickled into Roman's mind. He knew she was going to need new clothes but that will be for tomorrow. Something he had forgotten about was that she still needed a weapon; she'd be far less intimidating if all she had were her hands. He knew she needed something unique to go with her style as well as her colors.

Roman frowned in thought as he pulled out his scroll, searching for his weapon smith's name. This man was an expert and he had no doubt he'd work overnight to achieve the perfect mix of elegance and deadliness. Roman liked the way she'd moved with the umbrella and decided she'd be comfortable having a new weapon similar to her old one, maybe a parasol of some kind. His mind searched, forming and creating an image that he knew the smith would be able to work with.

It was only a few seconds later that he found the number and began dialing it at the same time that Iris approached the bathroom door.

Iris studied the hallway and the carpet underneath her foot. It felt like she was walking on a cloud after so long on concrete and pavement with broken shoes. Her bruised feet barely felt pain with the soft impact as the cushiony ground supported her. The walls were the same beige color from downstairs with a sparse amount of decorations along with them. There were only a couple of paintings and one side table with a thriving plant on top of it. Iris scanned its leaves as she strode past, studying its health and amazed by its strength. She took a deep breath, knowing that this is the safest she's been in a long time.

Following the sound of water, she quickly came alongside a large red wood door. It looked rather average and lacking any intricate designs like the rest of the house but still amazed her. The doorknob was a dull golden as her hand slid around it and gently turned.

Iris peeked her head inside, peering through the crack of the door as it opened. She saw Quincy at the far end, turning off the shower as to not waste too much water. The room at first looked purely white, every single surface being perfectly cleaned and the marble countertop polished. The mirror was perfectly reflective without even a speck of dirt or dust. As Iris was studying the reflective surface, her eyes readjusted and Quincy came into focus through it as their eyes met.

"About time. Get in here," Quincy ordered as Iris pushed the door open. Iris didn't close the door as she took a deep breath, remembering what Roman had told her. She remembered that she'd be working with him and that she could possibly be a partner of his—on the same hierarchical level as him.

Iris blinked a couple of times as she breathed evenly whilst locking with Quincy's eyes.

A couple seconds later, Quincy broke contact first and looked away.

Iris watched as she walked to the side, picking up a pile of clothes and laying them neatly onto the left side of the sink countertop. She spoke without looking to her guest, "these are what you'll change into. The shower water will be room temperature when you turn it on and it's up to you how to adjust it afterward." Quincy turned and pulled out a large bath towel and folded it within seconds, laying it beside the assorted clothing. "Use this to dry off and leave any dirty clothing on the opposite side of the sink. Don't bother cleaning anything otherwise you'll leave me without anything to do. Anyways if you were to clean it you'd do it wrong; I have a very specific way of going about each room."

Iris listened to her curiously, noting every instruction but also noticing the sudden lack of threat in the woman's voice. Quincy walked past her, thinking of anything else to say. She made sure to keep a wide berth as to avoid touching Iris in case any dirt the woman had rubbed off onto her. Quincy stepped out of the room speaking a little more quietly, "hey…" she looked up to Iris' eyes as the woman turned to her with a tilted head.

Quincy's voice rose back to its usual volume and the slight harshness returning suddenly, "just try not to destroy the shower, will you?"

Iris nodded with a smirk and moved her flat palmed hand towards her face with her fingers touching her chin. She rotated her forearm forward without moving her hand in a sign of "thank you".

Quincy squinted her eyes as she grabbed the exterior doorknob, "I'm going to assume that wasn't an insult."

As soon as she finished her sentence, she looked down at the doorknob. Quincy's countenance quickly shifted to one of disgust as she lifted her hand off the doorknob, studying it. She saw brown smudges of dirt and grease on her pure white glove as she stared in horror at the doorknob, forgetting that Iris needed to grab it to enter. Quincy quickly peeled her glove off from her wrist, turning it inside out. She pulled out another glove that perfectly mirrored the one she currently wore and slipped it onto her hand. She used the discarded fabric to wrap around the doorknob, using only her fingertips to hold it this time.

Quincy glared up at Iris as she spoke sternly, "don't forget to lock the door."

With that, the door clicked closed and Iris was left on her own in complete silence.

Iris was left completely on her own, staring into the mirror with an unknown pair of eyes staring directly back at her.

This was not a time to simply just uncover who she was; this was a time to move forward and figure out who she will become.


End file.
